


Hands-On Learning

by Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: (Not from the Spanking), Aftercare, Bruises, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Mild Painplay, Praise Kink, Pre-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Robbery, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29962821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat/pseuds/Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat
Summary: On your first proper job with the gang, with Dutch, you ignore an order and almost get yourself and John killed. Dutch decides that you need a lesson in obedience.Male Reader!My first Male Reader fic, actually. I'm always willing to improve, so if anyone has any advice...
Relationships: Dutch van der Linde/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Hands-On Learning

You’d barely been in the outlaw life; less than a year before you were picked up by the Van Der Linde gang. You’d robbed Bill of almost everything he was carrying on him and almost got away with it, if Arthur hadn’t been sent out after you. He’d dragged you by your collar out of the room you’d paid for, dropping you in the dirt right in front of Bill and Dutch.  
For some reason, rather than just take the money back and throw you back out onto the streets, Dutch had brought you into the group.

In the three or four months since then, you’d tried your hardest to prove yourself as something other than the weaselly pickpocket that Bill said you were. You’d barely taken a break and accepted any job you thought you could take, which was probably why Dutch trusted you so soon with a stagecoach job like this. Which made it all the worse that you failed.

* * *

There was a whole convoy of stagecoaches, three of them carrying so much money that Dutch wanted to come along himself, only four guards amongst the lot of them, passing through a ridiculously secluded area. Hosea had had the intel for almost two weeks, planning the entire time with Dutch. When it came time to pick who’d be doing the job, you were the last person that you expected to be called into the tent. Dutch said that it was about time that you really prove you were up to being one of his Boys. And you’d ruined it.

One impulsive decision had gotten you thrown from your horse with a gun to your head and your bandana ripped from your face, two of the coaches escaped, and John ended up with a bullet in his shoulder. It was only Arthur’s quick draw that had made sure you got out of there alive, though bruised and covered in someone else’s blood. Thankfully the others had pretty much cleared out one of the coaches that had gotten away, though the one left behind wasn’t very promising.  
As Dutch divided the take between you all, you could feel Bill’s eyes boring a hole into the side of your head. John was off back to the camp the second he got his money. That just left you, Dutch, Arthur, Bill, and Sean. Sean at least didn’t seem to hold anything against you.

“You boys get back to the camp, make sure you’re not followed.” Your feet ached at the mere idea. You didn’t have a horse, since yours had run off with the gunfire, and you weren’t looking forward to the walk back. Arthur looked down at you and opened his mouth, probably about to ask if you wanted to ride with him, when Dutch set a stony glare to you “Apart from you, boy. You’re coming with me.”  
“Yes, sir.” You sighed.

* * *

Dutch hauled you onto The Count, despite the horse’s protests, and set off in the opposite direction to the camp. You didn’t say anything, just kept your eyes down as The Count bounded across the paths. You knew Dutch wasn’t going to kill you for something like this, but you weren’t sure if you’d be going back to camp either.  
Now the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain in your back was creeping up on you, wrapping around your sides and digging into your spine. Your arms ached too and the dirt in your hair and on your skin from when you fell was starting to itch. Tears started to well in your eyes but you wiped them away before they could fall. Dutch looked back to you over his shoulder as you sniffled and cleared your throat, but he didn’t say anything.

The grass turned to tracks, turned to dirt path, and soon enough you were in town. You fully expected Dutch to kick you off in front of the station and tell you to go somewhere, anywhere, away from the gang and never tell anyone about them, but instead he passed the station and hitched The Count in front of the hotel.  
You followed after him, though hesitantly, with your head bowed like a child waiting to be scolded. The owner looked up with a soft smile “Hello gentlemen. What can I do for you?”  
“A bath for him.” Dutch said, placing the money down instantly. You looked up at him and frowned at the back of his head in confusion. The owner nodded and pointed down the hall to where the bath was. When you didn’t move after a few seconds, Dutch grabbed your arm and shoved you a little down the hall “Get cleaned up. You’re a mess.”  
“Okay.” You muttered and stropped down the corridor.

The second you sank into the warm water, you groaned in relief as the heat stroked over every ache and pain in your body. You hadn’t had a warm bath in a while, never having the money or the time when washing yourself in a lake or river would do. You almost didn’t want to get out.  
But, as the water darkened and started to cool down, you knew you had to. After all, Dutch was still (hopefully) waiting.

He wasn’t in the main room when you wandered out, but the owner looked over when you awkwardly peaked your head out from the hall “Your room is 3a.” He smiled “Your friend’s already there.”  
“Umm. Thanks.” You smiled in return before heading up the stairs. Thankful that Hosea had been teaching you and Tilly to read, you made your way over to 3a but hesitated at the door. You raised your fist to knock and lowered it a few times as you played the options over in your mind. You could knock on and endure Dutch’s disappointment. You could go in there and beg for his forgiveness. You could run, take a horse and ride out to camp, hope that you could pack everything up and leave before Dutch caught up with you.  
“Come on in, boy.” Dutch called through the door before you could make up your mind “No use just standin’ out there.”

* * *

He was leaning against the wall by the window with a cigar lit in his hand, one foot crossed over the other as he just looked outside at the town. The dusk light shone through and cast a deep orange glow across his face. Your breath caught in your throat at the mere sight of him. He was so…astoundingly handsome in most lights anyway but there was something about the sinking sun that made him look almost godly.

He didn’t look towards you even as the door closed “Pants down, bend over the bed.” Your jaw dropped and you blinked twice at him. You were sure you’d misheard him, your mind wandering and just hearing what it wanted to hear. He sighed and gestured to the bed “Over the bed. Now.”  
“Sorry.” You said quickly as you dropped your shaking hands to your belt. It took you a bit of fumbling, but you managed to get your belt and jeans undone just as you reached the bed. The fabric fell to the floor with a heavy clunk. With your eyes cautiously trained to your boss, you bent over and rested your hands on the mattress. When he stayed silent and unmoving, you indulged your eyes in his form; His hat was tipped down a little over his eyes, jacket draped over the stool in front of the mirror, pristine white sleeves rolled up to his elbows; his hand bringing the cigar to his mouth splitting your attention between his lips and his hand, you weren’t sure which you’d want against your skin more. When you felt your cock start to stir in your underwear, you cast your gaze away from him quite quickly. If it wasn’t for the worry to disobey Dutch yet again, you’d have reached down and adjusted yourself.

“Can’t take orders today, can you?” Dutch mused. You bowed your head and stared at the bedspread “You almost got yourself killed, an’ John too.”  
“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“  
“-I ain’t say you could talk.” Your mouth snapped shut with a click. He snubbed out his cigar and pushed himself away from the wall, looking over you finally “Now, you’re good for the camp. You work hard, you don’t cause trouble. You just need to start learnin’ to listen, boy.” From the corner of your eye, you noticed him adjusting his rings as he walked over “So what I’m goin’ to do is, any time you disobey me, I’m going to make sure you get a punishment. Understand?” You tried not to shudder at the thought.  
“Yes.” Dutch disappeared from your vision.  
“You say ‘yes _sir_ ’ when I’m doing this.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Attaboy. Now-“ In a second, Dutch had pulled your underwear down to your knees, making you gasp “-You get one for every time you disobeyed or ignored me. An’ after every one, you count it, and you apologise. Okay?” You had to clear your throat first, more to make yourself catch up to what the fuck was happening.  
“Y-Yes, sir.”

The room was still for a few seconds. You listened out for Dutch’s breaths, for any steps he made, anything to give a hint of when he’d act. When you took a breath in to calm yourself a little, that’s when Dutch decided to draw his hand back and strike you across your backside. You gasped and rocked forward with the force, your fingers clutching the blanket “O-O-One. I…I’m sorry, sir.” You managed to gasp out. Dutch hummed once in response, and then spanked you again. A little lighter, but the sound was just as loud “Two. I’m sorry, sir.”  
He hadn’t taken his rings off, and your ass was already a little bruised from the fall from your horse, so each hit stung in the best way. Despite screwing your eyes shut and trying to distract yourself, focus on anything but the pain and Dutch’s hand on your ass, your cock, already slightly hard before Dutch started this, swelled fully as your arousal just grew. There was no way you could hide it.  
But, if Dutch noticed, it didn’t stop him from striking you a third time. The noise that left you that time was breathy, far too close to a moan as it sparked pleasure/pain through your body “Three. ‘M sorry sir.” Faintly, you heard him rub his hands together a little. If his hands were tingling even half as much as your ass was, he probably needed a break too. You shifted on your feet in anticipation for the next one. Dutch chuckled a little and then tutted almost condescendingly.  
“You enjoying this, boy?”  
“Uh, Um, I…”  
“Lyin’ to me gets you another one.” He hummed again and placed his hand on your ass, stroking across the heated flesh “Unless that’s what you want.”  
“Yessir.” You breathed, having to push the words out so you didn’t moan them out.  
“What was that?”  
“Yes, sir, I’m enjoying this.” Dutch chuckled, the low sound going straight between your legs.  
“Well, ain’t that somethin’.”

The fourth spank was painful, rather than stinging, as he hit the last spot just below a forming bruise. That was what seemed to be needed to finally push the moan from you, dropping your head down limply. You must have taken too long to count, because Dutch hit you again, harder “ _Fuck_.” You gasped as you twisted your fingers in the sheets, your arms trembling with the effort of keeping you upright.  
“Ain’t you forgetting something?”  
“Umm. F…Four? I’m sorry sir.”  
“You need to pay attention. How else are ya gonna learn?”  
“I’m sorry, sir. I…I’ll pay attention.”  
“Only got one more.” You nodded quickly, tensing in anticipation for the final strike.  
When it did come, it wasn’t exactly the strongest, but hit directly on a bruise and made your toes curl as you grunted out “Five. I’m sorry, sir.”

* * *

“You relax now, boy, you did a good job.” You let yourself collapse half onto the bed, your knees thudding against the floor, now that you had permission. Dutch chuckled softly and knelt beside you, slowly stroking one hand over your ass, the skin hot and tingling under his palm. He helped you lift up just enough to turn and lie on the bed, hissing a little as your abused skin touched the blanket. His eyes drifted downwards, to your hard aching cock; twitching under his gaze and begging to be touched, the tip red and drooling precum just from the spanking, your balls heavy. You bit your lip as you watched the way he looked at you, his tongue peaking out against his lips making your length twitch again. He reached down but rather than touch you, as you wanted so much for him to do, he instead removed your shoes for you so he could pull your jeans and underwear off completely. His eyes met yours and he smiled slightly “You took your punishment so well. ‘s hope for ya yet.” He chuckled as he stroked his hand through your hair “I don’t want ya acting up now, to keep getting these lessons.”  
“No, sir. I’ll be on my best behaviour.” You smiled breathlessly.  
“You better.” He growled and leaned closer to you, his lips almost touching yours “Because if you’re a good boy-“ You groaned softly just at those words as another wave of pleasure rolled down your spine “-then I’ll make sure you get rewarded.” His ring-clad fingers curled around the tip of your length and slowly stroked down your shaft to the base “And don’t that sound so much better than being punished?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Good boy.” He felt the twitch this time in his hand, as well as a dribble of your precum trailing over his fingers. But he pulled away totally.

He looked over the mess on his fingers almost analytically before bringing his hand closer to his face. A deep pink tongue stroked broadly over the mess you’d left behind and he groaned at the taste of you. Now he was stood in front of you, the straining bulge in his trousers was obvious. “I think I’m going to have a bath too, actually. When we’re both…ready, we can head back to camp. Sound good to you?”  
“Sounds perfect, sir.”  
“That’s my boy.” He smiled and then, with a parting glance back to your cock, turned and left the room.

The second the door closed behind him, you were gripping your cock and closing your eyes, Dutch’s voice echoing in your mind.


End file.
